


Origin

by megupic



Category: Miraculous Ladybug
Genre: Future AU, Gen, One Shot, Origin Story, cyborg AU, meowraculous chat noir zine entry
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-06-14
Updated: 2017-06-14
Packaged: 2018-11-13 21:13:12
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,790
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11193543
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/megupic/pseuds/megupic
Summary: Adrien Agreste's perfect life dramatically changes after he becomes terribly disfigured in a modeling accident and has to become a cyborg for his life to be saved. Gabriel Agreste thinks he can hide his son's new state from the world, but that's not enough for Adrien. That's why he sneaks out one night and the events that happen afterward lead to him becoming a solo hero of Paris.





	Origin

**Author's Note:**

> This is my submission for the Meowraculous Chat Noir Zine and it's what I've been working on for the past couple months, other than all my other projects here on AO3. I got the idea from tumblr user chai-chino's fanwork for the zine and she was kind enough to let me collab with her! Hope you guys enjoy and if you're interested in seeing more of the zine, you can download it for free right here:  
> https://gumroad.com/l/spLM
> 
> chai-chino's art: http://chai-chino.tumblr.com/post/161747144442/filleauxallumettes-wip-wop-on-future-chat-noir

**Prologue**

Paris, the frontier where fashion and technology meet to come together in a seamless thread. This is the City of LED Lights and Love, where streets are circuits in a motherboard spread as far as the eye can see and the people are bits of data that are constantly being shuttled back and forth, day and night carrying out individual commands to make the entire processing unit—the city—run flawlessly. 

I was one of those bits of data once, carrying out pre-programmed commands that weren’t my own. But then something happened and took me off course—took me off the grid entirely— and put me on a new one, an incomplete one; one that I got to forge myself bit by bit and become Chat Noir, defender of Paris.

***

“And cut! Great job everybody, let’s take a fifteen and then meet back here for the final set.”

Bodies that were once lifeless as statues surged back to life. Everything was movement and sound, rushes of color and glints of metal. Models strolled off set for lunch, interns pushed racks of clothes and sunk under the weight of boxes filled to the brim with accessories, and the film crew chatted as they prepared for the upcoming set. 

Adrien let out a sigh and allowed his muscles to relax, releasing the tense position he’d been holding for the past fifteen minutes. The last set had been difficult. Either the tech hadn’t been working, someone had blinked, wasn’t smiling wide enough, or wasn’t supposed to be smiling  _ at all _ . He was glad it was over. 

He pulled out his phone and tapped the face of his smartphone. The holographic screen sprung to life and hovered a few inches from the glass face. The digital numbers of the clock glowed big and white: 21:02. Three more hours, just three more hours until the end of the day. 

_ Soon _ . 

Once fashion week was over they’d all have a breather. Then, he’d be able to do whatever he wanted. At least for a little bit.

“Did you hear about the latest protest?” Adrien turned his head towards a passing tech guy talking with one of the models. “This cyborg problem is really getting out of control.”

“Ugh, tell me about it,” the model scoffed, curling her perfect red lips into a grimace. “I once had to stand next to one on the metro and I couldn’t stop staring at her metal eye. It looked so... _ wrong.  _ Like, what if I looked at her weird she’d attack me.”

Their conversation faded as they passed, but what Adrien had heard left a sour feeling in the pit of his stomach. It was more and more common to see someone with a prosthetic or some kind of replacement to make up for their disability, but because they didn’t look one-hundred percent human, they were treated with constant fear and wariness at best and as less-than-human at worst. He didn’t know much since he had no experience with them himself, but he still couldn’t help but feel like how people looked at them was wrong.

“Adrien!” his head whipped up to see his father’s assistant making a beeline for him. He swallowed a curse and smiled. 

“Yes, Nathalie?” he greeted, hoping for once she was about to tell him his father had called him home so he could go to bed.

“The newest prop has just arrived,” she began, either not noticing Adrien deflating or choosing to overlook it. “You will be using them for the next set to promote your father’s primary line for fashion week, so I figured it would be best for you to get an early peek at it so you would be comfortable during the runway show.”

Adrien stared at her, a crooked grin slowly stretching onto his face.  “Awesome, where is it?”

She led him to a table where a short, thin silver cylinder lay. It was no bigger than a USB stick and about twice the width of a pen. 

“It’s...small,” he commented, feeling slightly underwhelmed.

“For convenience. Although it is best not to judge by appearances, Adrien. If you will look near the base, there is a button that you can press.”

Indeed there was. It blended in with the rest of the baton, barely outlined at the edges. He pressed it, a barely audible  _ click  _ sounding and the baton suddenly shot out, growing longer in his hand until it was nearly even with the top of his head. 

“Whoa, that’s pretty cool. What’s it going to be used for?”

“They’re still in development. Originally, they were meant to be a tool for self defense, but they were pulled at the last minute because PR decided selling weapons, even if they were for a good cause, wouldn’t be an appropriate image for the Agreste brand. For now it is just a stylish prop.”

“How were they seen as a weapon?” Obviously, it could be used to beat someone away, but so could a lot of other things that were already being sold.

“There’s a taser function,” she informed him, pointing out another small button that blended in with the metalwork. “Press that and the ends become charged just enough to immobilize an attacker and allow the victim to run away.”

“I think that’s a smart idea,” he muttered. 

“Be careful, Adrien,” she warned as she watched him experimentally twirl it around. “They are still in development so they can be—” 

His finger brushed the taser button and the ends popped with green sparks. Adrien cried out and dropped it.

“...Temperamental.” Nathalie sighed. “Please be more careful. We are very close to our deadline; we would not want to have any accidents. Now come along, we have a shoot to finish.”

“Don’t worry about it, I’m fine. I’ll be careful,” he promised, bending down and picking the baton up. It was still warm in his hand. He shrugged and leaned it against the wall near the rest of the equipment and followed her back on set. 

_ *** _

_ Fire.  _

That’s what people kept screaming; that a fire had broken out on set and was now engulfing the entire space. It had happened so suddenly, he still wasn’t sure what had caused it. But now the fire was spreading like an insatiable monster, running rampant and devouring everything in its path, leaving behind only ashes and smoke. 

Everything hurt. The pain was indescribable as a single brush against his skin had him screaming. When a section of the roof had come down, it had rained around Adrien and knocked him to the ground. Burning metal had him trapped by the legs and he wasn’t sure what hurt more, being crushed underneath all the weight of the fallout or slowly being roasted alive. 

He felt tears gather in his eyes and dry up before they had the chance to fall down his face. He hadn’t particularly disliked his life, but he wished he’d been able to do more. He didn’t know what he would’ve done…gotten away from his father’s influence, gone and done something that actually made him excited about his future and his life…

But this was how it ended. In a fiery blaze. Maybe it was the toxic fumes of the smoke, or the fact that he was dying, but he laughed. It came out as a strangled cough that made his lungs and throat scream instead. 

Shadows gathered in around him, dancing at the edges of his vision. He felt like he was floating and it was so easy to forget the pain now that it was starting to fade. He couldn’t feel his legs at all anymore. He could hear a faint pounding coming from somewhere, but he couldn’t really tell where from. Not that it mattered. 

He welcomed the quiet darkness when it fell, letting him slip away from the painful, burning world and into oblivion.

***

The first thing Adrien noticed was how clean it smelled. It wasn’t a pleasant clean either, more like cleaning-chemicals-clean. The next thing he noticed was the dull murmer of conversations from somewhere that was both close and far away, and a steady beeping next to his ears. It took an enormous amount of effort, but he managed to crack open his eyes. Half of his vision was dark, like the world around him was a painting and the right half was just a black void.

He glanced around the room—a hospital room—clean and white and sterile. The only bit of color was the flower bouquet adorning his bedside table with a  _ Get Well Soon  _ card written in a fancy style of handwriting he didn’t recognize. 

He was in a hospital. He was alive. 

But...how was that possible?

Slowly, he lifted a hand to his face, wincing when his wrapped fingers met soft gauze bandages and his skin underneath sorely protested under his light touch. The tips of his fingers felt something covering his right eye—an eyepatch.

His gaze drifted down to his body. He was in a hospital gown, but everything visible was wrapped in bandages. His shoulder and thigh ached. He went to rub the pain out of his arm and froze when his hand went straight to his ribs.

Ever so slowly, he felt up to his shoulder and stopped when he felt his arm end in a stump. 

_ What? _

His hand went down to the pain in his thigh and found that it ended in a stump midway down. 

His arm and leg were gone. He  _ only half of his limbs. _

He couldn’t breathe. And whatever breaths he could take didn’t feel like they did any good, like the air was just escaping through his lungs. He felt dizzy, his chest ached. He knew needed to calm down, but he couldn’t bring himself to do that. Not when he was  _ literally in pieces.  _

His eye darted to his bedside table to a nurse button. He practically slammed his hand down on it and not a minute later, a nurse came running into his room.

“Adrien, is everything okay?” she asked breathlessly, eyes roaming over his body to try to find the problem.

“Wh-where’s Nathalie? My father? Please…” his request died on his tongue. He didn’t know what he was going to ask, he just needed something— _ someone  _ to hold onto. He was drowning and needed a lifeline, something,  _ anything  _  familiar.

The nurse looked at him with so much pity that he thought he was going to be sick. 

“Adrien...I’m sorry. But we don’t know when they will be coming. Your father’s assistant informed us he’s a very busy man and he will try to come when he can. I’m so sorry...can I get you anything?”

He shook his head. “I just need to rest,” he said, his voice thick with unshed tears. The nurse nodded understandingly and then mercifully left him alone. 

Once the door clicked shut, he let the tears fall. Of course his father wasn’t here.  _ Of course  _ his father would make him wait until it was convenient for him, never mind his only son almost died and was lying alone in a hospital room.

He let the tears spill over and slide down his cheeks, just a little bit, until he was suddenly sobbing without control. 

He wasn’t sure how long he sat there, unraveling into a damp, snotty mess, but the tears only ended when he became too exhausted and fell asleep.

Gabriel Agreste finally deigned to show his face several days later and even then, the visit was kept short. One look at Adrien and his father’s lips had thinned into a straight, tight line on his face and his icy blue eyes seemed to freeze over completely. Few words exchanged, clinical, cold, and to the point. It reminded Adrien of one of his business deals. 

The plan was that he would be receiving many surgeries to give him prosthetics, a replacement eye, and improvements to the computer implants now in his brain to help it function normally. Adrien had to look completely normal if the company and his father’s career were to survive. Then his father had left without a second glance.

Adrien swallowed, his throat aching dully. 

_ You’re my most important asset, Adrien. If you’re like this, then what use are you to me? _

The words had hit him harder than a slap to the face. His insides grew cold as he attempted to deny the hurt he he was feeling deep inside his chest. 

His father was right anyway. If anyone learned of his new cyborg status, then the company would be finished. 

And of course, his father cared more about the company than his only son.

Adrien sighed, his lungs weakly protesting at the movement. He wasn’t surprised by his father’s treatment. He was an absent father, at best. But the rejection still stung. 

All Gabriel Agreste saw was a broken doll, forever stuck with chips in the once-perfect porcelain.

***

The rehabilitation was long and hard, especially since Adrien’s father was pushing for him to finish as fast as possible so he could return to modelling. Thankfully, the team of doctors, surgeons, and therapists didn’t take the orders to heart and were patient and supportive of him during his recovery. He really didn’t think he’d be able to get through the struggle without them.

His new arm and leg were made of a light-weight metal that hardly put any strain on him after he built up his strength. He was given an eye that looked exactly like his biological one, the same color shade of green and everything. The only difference was that it connected to the hardware in his brain and acted like an internal computer.. He was able to pull up newsfeeds, videos, maps, e-mail…really anything that could be done with a normal computer, and all it required was for him to blink and think about it. He would have thought it was pretty cool if it wasn’t such a glaring reminder that his life would never be the same. 

For months, Adrien attended physical therapy, getting used to normal everyday activities that his body no longer could do such as walking and dressing himself. Anything that required movement from his arm or leg was a struggle, but he fought through it. He had to constantly remind himself that he wasn’t doing this for his father or for the company, but for himself. He wasn’t about to sit around in a wheelchair and feel sorry for himself after losing so much. He could overcome this so he’d be able to work towards his goals—whatever those turned out to be. 

During the time that he was gone from modeling, his father told the press that he was taking a break for education. It was an easy lie, especially once Gabriel Agreste had let it slip that the schooling was related to taking over the family business. The press ate it up and didn’t once bother him during the months of rehab.

Nearly a year later, Adrien was back in the studio, make-up artists carefully covering up any and all flaws they could find. All of the outfits he’d been given to model were long-sleeved or had jackets, and he never wore shorts or cut-off pants. He was told he would either be wearing gloves or taking shots where his hand would remain unseen. His metal arm and leg remained hidden from sight, and no one commented on his new “condition”. It was as if the fire had never happened.

_ But it had happened. _

That was one thing that bothered him more than anything. It made him feel like what he’d gone through was nothing to these people and he had to act the same way as before. The facade that he was still the perfect boy from a year ago felt wrong. It was a lie...and no one would know. 

But at the end of the day when it was just him alone at home, he’d stand in front of the mirror and stare at the scarred flesh where it met the metal of his new limbs and be reminded just how different everything was now. 

He knew he was the same person and he was still good, the circuitry in his brain hadn’t fried the good parts of him, contrary to popular belief that cyborgs were dangerous, unfeeling creatures who wore human skin. And yet...it still made him feel slightly sick when he looked at his arm and leg or whenever a popped up in his vision becuase it was a cruel reminder that he now had no chance of earning his father’s love.

One night after he came home, he paced around for an hour before he decided he needed to get out. He needed to do something for himself, something that had nothing to do with his father or the company. Despite his room being bigger than some apartments in Paris, he felt stifled. It was late at night, nearing midnight. However... it would be a problem if people figured out that Adrien Agreste was sneaking out to prowl around Paris at late hours,  _ especially  _ if the news made it back to his father.

So he threw open his closet and hunted for the darkest, most inconspicuous clothes he owned. A moment later he was dressed in a pair of black active pants with the words CHAT NOIR spelled out in gray lettering down his right leg, a black, short-sleeved hoodie, boots, and a glove for his left hand. 

He stared at himself in the mirror, but more specifically, his shiny metal arm that stood out in the open for all to see. He didn’t want to cover it up. That was all he did every day, hide who he was. 

If he was going out and he was going to clear his head, then he had to be himself.

But he still had to hide his identity. 

He searched around his closet until the crosshairs in his vision locked onto a pair of black and gray goggles and his black cat-ear headphones. His father had given him a hard time for the headphones since they weren’t “normal”, but he’d kept them  _ because  _ they annoyed his father. It was a small victory. 

He gave himself a satisfied look before turning his attention to the next problem at hand: he needed to get out of the house without being spotted.

Out of the corner of his eye, a red arrow pointed offscreen to something he couldn’t see. He turned his head, following it until his crosshairs centered on a sleek, silver baton leaning against the far wall.

His stomach churned as he approached the instrument and delicately picked it up. It’d been reported that the cause of the fire had been narrowed down to a faulty prototype that had been left too close to an electrical box. It had sparked and blown the circuits, creating an electrical fire that had quickly spread. Before anyone knew it, the whole room had been engulfed in flames. 

He’d put the baton next to the electrical box. He’d caused the fire. 

He twirled it in his hands thoughtfully, frowning.

_ It was a freak accident _ .  _ It’s fine now.  _

Gripping the baton, he crossed over to the window and gazed out at the city.

The streets were brightly lit with white, clean energy and created a zig zagging grid as far as he could see. Not a soul was out, the streets were completely abandoned. 

Before he could think twice about his crazy, half-baked plan, he was out the window and sliding down the baton like a fireman pole. About halfway down the baton started to tilt to the side and before he could do anything about it, he’d found himself lying on the pavement. Other than a few bruises he’d know would show up later though, he was fine. So he hopped up, dusted himself off, and made his way into the city.

***

Adrien kept to the quieter streets and away from the touristy areas just so he could drink in the silence of the night. In the time that he’d left the manor, he’d only run into the occasional drunk stumbling his way home and a couple leaning tiredly on one another. The air smelled of fallen leaves and rain from the storm that had passed through earlier that day and the crisp, cool air energized him despite his previous fatigue and kept him moving quickly through the sleeping streets. 

He’d never realized how beautiful his city was before since he was always being shuttled around in a car, speeding from one place to another and then he’d been in and out of the hospital for the past year. He’d never actually gotten time to discover the city he’d spent his entire life in. But now that he actually had the time and ability to _actually_ get out, he was seeing Paris in a brand new light that had nothing to do with the clean-energy LED street lamps.

The peaceful silence couldn’t last forever though. It was suddenly shattered when a scream that made Adrien’s hairs rise on the back of his neck pierced the night. He wasn’t thinking as he rushed to follow the sound. As he neared the source of the commotion, he started to hear other voices too.

“Please, just go back inside. We’ll be in in a minute!” a woman’s voice begged. Adrien could tell she was on the verge of tears.

A man’s rougher, deeper voice snapped in response, “Yeah right! Don’t think I don’t know what yer tryin’ ta do! Yer not leavin’ tha’ easily!” He sounded drunk.

Adrien rounded a corner and nearly ran into someone’s fist.

“Whoa!” he exclaimed, immediately dropping to all fours. Above him stood a burly man wearing a sour expression on his face. His cheeks were flushed and his dark eyes were now focused on Adrien in a seething glare. Adrien glanced behind him and saw the previous targets of the man’s anger: a middle-aged woman and a kid probably no older than ten. They were clutching at each other, shaking, their wide eyes on him as well. 

The man towering above him growled. “Get outta ‘ere, kid. This ain’t yer business.”

Adrien stood up slowly, slipping his hand into his pocket where his baton rested. He glanced back at the woman and boy, taking in their terrified expressions, then back at the man.

“Please,” the woman whispered, “Please, go on. We’ll be fine.”

“I don’t think you will be,” Adrien said slowly, his grip on the baton tightening. He brushed his thumb against it, feeling the grooves of the button he was itching to press.

“Don’ stick yer nose inta busness that ain’t yer own, cyborg scum!” the drunk man roared, lurching forward, swinging his meaty fist at Adrien.

He dodged, whipping out his baton in a flash of silver just in time to block the man’s fist. The kid and his mom cried out in surprise.

“Get out of here, go!” he didn’t wait to see if they obeyed as he moved to block another punch from the man.

_ Clang, thud. Clang, clang, CLANG. _

Back and forth they moved, the man’s movements sluggish and sloppy but full of brute force as he attacked Adrien over and over, forcing the teen to play defense. 

_ There has to be some way to beat him _ .

Suddenly his vision lit up with little red dots. The words ANALYZING ATTACK PATTERN paired with two arrows rotating in a patient circle appeared at the bottom of his vision. Then the dots lit up green and popped up: DODGE LEFT. 

_ What’s is this…? _

That’s all he allowed himself to wonder before dodging just in time to avoid the man as he threw himself at Adrien. The drunk’s momentum sent him staggering and crashing into the brick wall behind Adrien. 

He felt a grin tug at his lips. Okay, this was going to fun.

He made quick work of the man after that, paying attention to the instructions rolling across the bottom of his vision as his eye analyzed his attacker’s movements and predicted a way to beat him.

It was less than a minute later before Adrien finished off the guy with a quick jab to the man’s side with his baton’s taser. Electric green lit up the alleyway before fading and leaving them in the dark once again. The man lay unconscious on the road and Adrien didn’t feel a hint of remorse leaving him there as he hurried out of the alley. He hoped the mother and her son were very far away by now.

He wasn’t expecting to meet their shocked gazes right around the corner. Well, the boy was staring up at him with more awe and wonder than shock.

“Are you a superhero?!” the boy demanded after a second of surprised silence had passed. 

“I...um…”

“Thank you, young man,” the mother said, any previous tension from her face gone, replaced with a soft look of gratitude and relief. “Really, you didn’t have to step in for us like that.”

“But I wanted to,” Adrien quickly said. “I had to help, that was a tough situation you were in and I couldn’t just sit back and watch.”

“Well, we’re very grateful to you. With it being this late at night, I didn’t expect anyone to show up. I’d already resigned myself to Jean’s cruelty.”

Adrien inclined his head to her, smiling softly. “If you don’t mind me prying ma’am...can I ask why you two were out here so late?”

The mother sighed and placed a hand on her son’s shoulder. “We were trying to leave. I figured late at night was the best time to since Jean usually is...asleep by now. Trying to leave during the day would have been impossible.”

“I see…Well, I shouldn’t keep you, then. He might wake up soon,” Adrien said taking a step back.

“Chat Noir wait!” 

He froze, blinking in confusion. “What did you call me?” he asked, staring at the little boy.

“Chat Noir!” the boy exclaimed, pointing to Adrien’s sweatpants, where the words CHAT NOIR were clearly visible. “That’s your superhero name, isn’t it? Thanks for saving me and my mom! I’m going to be a superhero like you when I grow up!”

Adrien felt his cheeks heat up at the unexpected praise. He didn’t have the heart to tell the boy he wasn’t a superhero. It was then that he noticed the boy was wearing a Batman t-shirt. 

The mother laughed, slightly embarrassed. “Forgive him, he’s going through a bit of a phase right now.”

Adrien shook his head, grinning. “It’s no problem. I don’t blame him, I love heroes too.”

“Chat Noir, Chat Noir! Can I see your baton?!” the boy asked, pointing to the weapon in Adrien’s metal hand. Adrien’s grin only grew and he nodded, kneeling next to the boy and hand his staff over, shrinking it down so it was barely longer than the boy’s arm. 

“Wow, so cool! And do you know what’s even cooler?!”

“What’s that?” Adrien asked, chuckling.

“You’re a cyborg! Everyone says all cyborgs are bad, but that’s not true! You saved me and my mom AND you look super cool doing it! I’m gonna tell  _ everyone _ that Chat Noir’s a cyborg hero!”

“O-Oh, you don’t have to do that…”

But the boy shook his head, not having any of Adrien’s protests. “I’m gonna be your biggest fan now!”

“W-well...okay then. I’m glad to have you as my number one fan.” He extended his metal arm for a fist bump, which the boy enthusiastically returned. 

Adrien insisted on escorting them to a nearby relative’s apartment, she apparently had a sister who lived close by, before bidding them goodbye and turning around to finally head home. 

_ Chat Noir, huh? _

He rather liked the sound of that.

***

**Epilogue**

So that’s how I became Chat Noir, hero of Paris and the face of the Cyborg Equality cause. I ended up going out every night after that, looking for people to save. As a masked hero, I feel free, alive, and like I’m actually using my second chance at life wisely.  

I used to be a bit of data, carrying out commands my father wanted for my life. But then I became Chat Noir and it took me off of my previous course, took me off the grid entirely as Adrien Agreste, and put me on a new one, an incomplete one. This path is one that I get to forge myself bit by bit as Chat Noir, defender of Paris.

 


End file.
